


Easier Done

by yfere



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb? Use his words? Like that'll ever happen, Coda to e61, Copious research and enabling lying as a language of love, M/M, this can also be read as platonic because that's just how my writing goes apparently, yes I made the title a pun fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 11:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yfere/pseuds/yfere
Summary: Caleb is going to give himself carpal tunnel with all this writing he's doing. Post C2E61





	Easier Done

**Author's Note:**

> I know us ficcers like to give Caleb prestidigitation, but it is my private joy to deny that spell to him, always. Should he ever learn the spell on the show I will probably continue to withhold it from him in every story I write.

Caleb counted the minutes, and it took Fjord thirty two for his breathing to even out, to slip back into sleep. That was good, then. Caleb wasn’t sure he was equipped to handle anything else. He waited himself for sleep. Ten minutes. Fifteen. His mind was going too fast. And besides that the sheets were wet and smelled of brine, and Fjord’s sword was still draped across his lap, left out instead of recalled back to its pocket dimension. Caleb had never been able to sleep properly next to steel.

He told Frumpkin to curl up beside Fjord and keep watch, privately satisfied that he’d gotten the balance of fey and cat well enough by now to prevent Fjord sneezing in the night. If he knew how to use a little magic to dry the sheets he would, for some comfort maybe, or to make Fjord’s lie a little easier on him. A simple, stupid magic he’d never learned, just like all the other magic he ought to know by now and didn’t. Stupid, stupid. He needed time. Surely there was something for dreams…

He gathered his books and holster from beneath his pillow and crept downstairs, leaving the door slightly ajar for Frumpkin to leave if need be—the alarm wire would take care of the rest. It would only be another few hours before the others awoke. By that time it would be around eleven on the outside, not that one hour meant anything different from any other in this city.

The common area of the Dim's Inn was markedly less busy than he remembered it, the proprietor’s grin more strained even than the last time they’d pushed the moorbounders on him. They were certainly driving away business. _We must begin tipping him, though that may not be enough to remain in good graces. If we are thought ill of in the places we leave—_

But that was something for the backburner. For now—there was too _much_ , a thousand competing problems and interests among them, and it was one thing to think of something, but another to plan. There had to be some kind of arrangement that could fit all of them, a way to rank what to do next and next and next, up to that large thing that he hoped, he _hoped_ he wasn’t alone in hoping for. They couldn’t keep running around wildly and putting out fires.

He drew a line in his journal. He already knew he would be out of ink before this session was done. Ink and paper. New clothing for a new image—he should make a shopping list, first.

Next came their plans. First, the job from Professor Waccoh, hopefully the library, that would help everyone—with the spells, Torog, Uk’otoa, the Krynn, all of it. And another job, whatever was needed, because they had to be accepted into this society and fast. Twelve days now until the meeting or event at the Overcrow, which meant finding the place first. Angel’s eye—a greeting? Could they infiltrate?

Beau’s mentor would certainly make it to the city before that time—shortly before, probably. They would need to explain the situation to her, hopefully collaborate. But before even then they would need to handle Nott and Yeza’s situation. Caleb knew about what would be needed to transport them to Nicodranas, but it would be slow going, eight hours and expensive inks lost every time he attempted the spell, and Yussah would have to be handled, and they would have to rely on others to bring Luke to Nicodranas, it would take too much time to do it themselves but it couldn’t be put off to handle personally…

Yasha’s tribe—and it hurt his heart to think about it—they did not have a time limit with that. Jester and the Traveler—so many more questions he meant to ask, and a time limit, but a longer one. Caduceus, who was sometimes difficult to understand, and Caleb would have to ask how quickly he meant to travel to his kiln, what his next steps were.

And Fjord. Who had vomited seawater twice in a week, and was being threatened with death by his patron since Assarius. At any time Fjord could become an emergency—if he wasn’t already, as Caleb suspected he might be.

He dipped into Frumpkin’s senses for a moment. Fjord was still slumbering, seemingly peacefully. He refilled his pen.

Torog, Torog, Torog. And Uk’otoa. This was once the home of the Betrayer Gods. Of course there must be something on Uk’otoa in that library, on this situation Fjord has found himself in. What would Caleb do if they denied him the library? Then there were a few spells he might look into, to help in the meantime. If not that, then what? Then he might have to break confidence, seek out Jester and Caduceus. If not that, then what?

He realized he was pulling at his hair. He looked through Frumpkin again, just a glance. No change. He half wanted to say _Come back to me,_ but Frumpkin’s job was an important one, so he would stay put. Half an hour now. Nott always woke like clockwork, it was one of the things he loved about her.

_She might still decide to go—_

Twenty minutes. Ten minutes. He was calm again. He knew what he meant to do, but it was important to speak with the others first. One step at a time. And if Fjord avoided his eyes when he finally came downstairs, that was no matter. Caleb could make this easy on the both of them.

  
_____________________________________________________________

  
They’d finished the tour of the home, claimed their respective rooms. As they unloaded their packs Caleb made the circuit he’d considered the night before—the Luck stone to Yasha, who blinked at him and said it was a cute figurine, and he couldn’t say _You have to remember who is truly responsible. It was their hands that did it, not yours,_ so instead he said _you are deserving of this, this will make your reflexes a little faster, your heart a little braver, if you need. It has done that for me._ He gave the sword blade to Caduceus, didn’t quite manage to escape before a conversation that made his head spin and his arms itch, even now. He would need to talk to Nott and Jester, about making a teleportation circle here. Whether they would mean for him to begin work on a permanent one. One more conversation, before then.

“Fjord. I—have something for you.”

Fjord looked up from the shirt he was shaking the sand out of, and raised his eyebrows. “For me? I thought you only got the three items from this Professor?”

Caleb coughed. “This is from earlier, at the Labenda Swamp. And it is not so useful, probably. It does not have any special qualities—that I know of.” In the spirit of accuracy, that last clause was important. This wasn’t his field, after all.

“Well, you’ve piqued my curiosity.” Fjord’s smile was over-bright. _You can let yourself look tired,_ Caleb thought. What he did though was reach into his pocket, drop the cool metal symbol into Fjord’s waiting hand.

“This is—not a throwing star, I’m guessing?”

“It’s the holy symbol of the Archeart, or Corellon.” Caleb said. “The god of the fey, of art, and of arcane magic.”

Fjord’s eyes jumped to his.

“I know you have been—interested in religion, of late.” Caleb was floundering now, he could feel the unease crawling up his neck. “And that you have an interest in magic. I thought I might give it to you.”

Fjord’s fingers tightened around the symbol. “Is this who you worship?”

“I don’t know. One of the Archeart’s followers—did something very good for me once. It was a long time ago.”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about it sometime.” Fjord smiled, then coughed. “Have you ever—spoken to—?”

Caleb huffed a laugh. “No. I have had no experiences like Jester or Yasha or Caduceus, or yourself, in speaking with a god. I am but an ordinary man.”

“Not ordinary,” Fjord murmured, so quietly Caleb almost didn’t hear. He tucked the symbol away in his pocket. “Thank you, Caleb. I appreciate it.”

_It’s nothing. Actually nothing, it probably won’t help you at all. But until I learn more, there’s not much I can—_

“There was, ah, one other thing.”

“Mm-hmm?” Fjord’s gaze was very warm. Something that would be very easy to bask in, if Caleb wasn't careful.

“I know we have, ah, already decided on our rooms. But I feel you should not sleep alone, for the time being at least. It may be best if you were to room with Jester—”

Fjord laughed, a little shrill. “Look, not you too—”

“—or with Caduceus. They would be able to see to you should you wake up in pain, or should you encounter troubles in the night.”

Fjord folded his arms around himself, expression a great deal more stony that it had been moments previous. “Caleb, what’s bringing this on, all of a sudden?”

“You were threatened by your patron at Assarius,” Caleb emphasized the word, waited for Fjord to relax a fraction. “We cannot know what will happen to you next, or when. How much power this being has over you. You will be in danger, I think, until we find a way to escape its hold on you. If that is something you want.”

Fjord nodded slightly, then more vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah, definitely.”

Caleb’s hands twisted at the hem of his coat. “I think there may be some answers in that library. Or else there are a few other things to try—spells, to help with dreams, but I’m not sure if they could overpower a demigod. So even if it’s not comfortable, you could avoid sleeping alone, for the moment.”

“Right. I’m fine, but, that makes sense.” Fjord sucked in a breath. “How about I room with you, then?”

Curse his heart, for leaping.“Sorry?”

“Well, you’re a pretty light sleeper, right? Plus you have Frumpkin as a lookout. Caduceus sleeps, well, like the dead. So I figure if I start making any sounds like I’m dying in the middle of the night, you could just, pop! Pour a healing potion down my throat and I’ll be okay. Not that—not that that would happen. I also might have been looking forward to getting away from the snoring. Between you and me.”

 _I’m not sure this is a good idea._ “Of course.” Caleb smiled. “I’m very good at keeping secrets.”

  
_____________________________________________________________

  
Fjord didn’t spend much of the day in their new home, preferring to go back outside to explore the surrounding neighborhood until late in the evening. Caduceus and Yasha had made noises as if they meant to accompany him, but Caduceus got distracted by the garden, and Yasha was roped into clearing space for a gym by Beau and Jester. Caleb himself wanted to try for the library again, or at least a bookshop, but upon second thought decided it best to wait until his new clothing came in, and the Professor forgot a bit of her ire at their earlier meeting. Looking more settled in might help his case, if he were to go back into public. The house came with its own set of books too, and he wanted to see if he could learn something useful from them, before continuing his own research.

When Fjord came back into their room it was around 1:24 in the morning. “Yeah, I was _missing_ that clock of yours,” he groused, when Caleb told him. “I just came back when my feet started hurting.”

He looked troubled, spinning the symbol Caleb gave him quickly between his fingers, kicking his boots off with a vengeance and all but throwing himself on the other bed.

“Today wasn’t as productive as I hoped,” Caleb said slowly, looping the final rune in his transcription. “The books the previous owner left behind seem to be mostly mysteries and language dictionaries.”

“You mean there weren’t any romances? Shame.”

“Oh no, people are usually far too attached to their romances to leave them behind. What did you discover on your trip?”

“Not any smut shops, if that’s what you’re hoping to hear.” Fjord sighed. “This is a weird place. I don’t know what I think about it yet…I’m going to sleep now. Don’t stay up too much longer yourself, y’hear?”

“Sorry, couldn’t make that out.” Caleb opened his spellbook, and began making notes. The message spell was easy enough to understand, and breaking it down to its core principle there was nothing saying he couldn’t break through an unconscious mind. But as for inserting one consciousness into another—

“The idea of all of this is for you to sleep,” Caleb said, quietly. Fjord rolled onto his other side.

“I know, I know, I know. I am sleeping, can’t you tell?”

Caleb told Frumpkin to jump on Fjord’s chest, and start purring. Fjord stiffened for a moment,.

“Caleb—oh. That’s a nice cat,” he said, gingerly scritching him behind one ear. “He’s not making me sneeze.”

“Maybe you’ve adjusted to him,” Caleb said.

“You tell him to do this?”

“No. He must like you.” And worth it, to see how Fjord’s face lit up, how he curled his hand so Frumpkin could rest his head on it.

“Mm. I like him, too. He’s a very kind and thoughtful cat.”

Caleb hid a smile, and waited for Fjord’s hand petting Frumpkin to slow. It would only take a little push now, probably, for Caleb to make this night a little easier on him. He pulled a rose petal out of his pocket, pressed it to his lips, and spoke the words needed to tip Fjord into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The spell Caleb is researching near the end is Dream, though the spell he casts is Sleep. I don't know whether he knows Dream or not already, but right here it's something he's trying to crack.


End file.
